


Out in the Open (A Behind Closed Doors Sequel)

by arrowsong



Series: Behind Closed Doors [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsong/pseuds/arrowsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard reccounts how he met the reader as they wait to deliver important news to the Master - her father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out in the Open (A Behind Closed Doors Sequel)

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Behind Closed Doors

“I think I’m going to be sick,” you announce, pacing the floors just outside your father’s office.  The day you dreaded most had finally come.  Today you and Bard were telling your father that you were marrying Bard, not Alfrid.  Bard didn’t want to tell them at all.  He would have rather you marry first, then deal with them after the fact, but it was important to you.  He was your father after all.

“Would you calm yourself woman, this whole thing was your idea after all,” Bard scolded lightly from his seat on the long wooden bench.  He hated seeing you in such a state.  “Come, sit down,” he patted the space beside him.

Obediently you listen to the counsel of your husband to be, and sit next to him.  Wrapping his arms around you, Bard pulls you in close so your head rests on his shoulder while he kisses the top of your head.  “Do you remember that day in the market, when we first met?” he asked, and while you couldn’t see it, you could hear the smile in his voice.  He always knew the best way to distract you was with a story, and that one was a favourite of yours.

“Yes, I remember,” you smile in spite of yourself, and all your worries.  “But tell it to me again?”  You ask, resting comfortably against his chest there on the bench.

“Well it all started when I went to buy an apple,” Bard whispered in your ear as he started to tell the story.

 

* * *

 

 

_The summer was hotter than any other in living memory and that day was no exception.  Even in your lightest linen dress the sweat clung to your forehead, dampening your hair as you strolled casually around the numerous stands.  At the moment you were enjoying a few moments of freedom from the watchful eye of Alfrid while you did the day’s shopping in the market place._

_“Good afternoon my lady,” one of the vendors greeted you as you made your rounds through the numerous stands lining the streets.  There were only a few more things you needed before you were expected to meet back with Alfrid._

_“Gwenda,” you greet the toothy old woman warmly, placing a tender kiss on her cheek.  “How is your son doing?”  You ask before holding a sprig of rosemary to your nose, inhaling the rich scent._

_“Oh he’s just wonderful now.  It was a bit touch and go there for a while, but that tonic you gave us worked miracles on him.  Not out of the woods yet though, he still runs a fever at night and the cough disrupts his sleeping.” She chattered energetically._

_Sliding a small bottle from the pocket of your apron you whisper, “If you need more, you just tell me, and I’ll have a new batch brewed next week for you.”_

_“You truly are an angel my lady,” she took the bottle from you before anyone could see._

_“Just trying to undo some of the damage my father’s done,” you whisper back.  Several years ago now, you took it upon yourself to help those in need who could not afford to see a proper herbalist or apothecary due to the rising cost of herbs.  You started out with the most basic of remedies, but over time you developed quite the talent for herbalism, and expanded your stock._

_“Have you seen?  He’s raised the prices of apples from the Greenwood again.”  Gwenda pointed at the fruit stand beside hers._

_You sigh in disgust.  “Again?  Is he trying to bleed the people dry?” You shake your head before reaching into your purse.  “I’ll take three sprigs of the rosemary.”_

_Gwenda tried to refuse payment as thanks for the tonic you gave her to help her son recover from a deadly fever that was spreading through the town. You wouldn’t hear of it though, and insisted on paying her double their value.  It was your father’s money anyways._

_Walking over to the fruit stand you decide to purchase a few despite the price increase.  You would give them out while you made your rounds this evening after your father and Alfrid were asleep.  You added maybe three or four to your basket when a male voice beside you took you by surprise._

_“Typicial,” a tall, lanky man with hair blacker than any ink scoffed while picking up an apple of his own. “The people barely have enough to eat, and the rich flaunt their wealth by buying in surplus.”_

_You turn to face the man.  “Excuse me, do I know you?” you demand to know placing a hand on your hip.  You were usually on the receiving end of public scrutiny and insult as the Master’s daughter, and ordinarily you let their words roll off your shoulder like water off a duck.  Maybe it was the summer’s heat or the arrogant tone this rogue before you used, but you were in no mood for his japes._

_“No,” he smirked.  “But I know who you are.”_

_“You and everyone else in town,” you reply dryly, getting a good look at the man.  You notice now the bow and quiver strapped to his back.  A Bowman.  Figures.  They were typically ruffians with little to no manners, the kind of man that a respectable young lady would not want to come across on the streets late at night.  You didn’t even want to be in his presence now; though you were loath to say it out loud, he was rather handsome though.  Too bad his attractive face was ruined by his less than desirable personality._

_“I have to admit I’m surprised to see you here doing the shopping yourself.  I would have thought you’d send one of your servants to do that.  Does the little rich girl have something to prove?  Or did you simply feel like seeing how the other half live?”  He asked leaning against the table, tossing his newly purchased apple in their air before catching it again.  “Speaking of servants, where is that creature of yours?  About this tall,” he held his hand by your shoulder, “kind of hunched over, has only one eye brow.  Responds to the name Alfrid.”_

_Knocking his hand away from your shoulder you turn, glaring up at him.  “Do us all a favor and go jump in the river,” you hand the stand owner more coins than necessary to pay for your few apples.  “And he’s my father’s pet, not mine.” You huff before walking away._

_“Struck a nerve did I?” The man chuckled, following you. “I must have, to warrant such hostility.”_

_“Or maybe I’ve just been harassed by too many bow men to bother putting up with them anymore,” you reply returning to Gwenda’s stand after remembering that you need to purchase some lavender for a certain balm.  “If you’re looking for Alfrid he’ll be skulking about by the clock tower.  I need to meet him there in a few minutes.”  You turn back to see the man already wandering into the thick bustle of the crowd._

_“My lady,” Gwenda greeted you cheerily, again. “I see you’ve met our Bard,” she nodded in the direction the young man strode off in._

_“Unfortunately,” you grumble while inspecting the bundles of lavender._

_“Oh, don’t be too hard on him.  He’s just a bit rough around the edges, hates what your father’s doing to the people almost as much as you.  He is a good lad, doesn’t always act like it, but his heart is in the right place.”_

_Curiosity piqued, you looked over in Bard’s direction and watched as he interacted with the people.  They loved him. The men stopped their work to chat with him amiably.  You weren’t close enough to hear what was being said but you heard the eruption of sniggering as Bard slapped his knee a few times doubled over laughing  – probably some joke about your father._

_You listened to Gewnda’s stories of Bard the Bowman, the unsung hero of Laketown.  You still didn’t like him, but the least you could do was respect him.  He defended the people of Laketown in a way you never could._

_Leaving the stand to go meet Alfrid you noticed Bard was no longer in the thick of the crowd, in fact he was nowhere to be seen. It was for the best probably.  You didn’t really want to risk another interaction with him.  He may be the people’s hero, but to you he was still just a rude and arrogant bowman._

_When you arrived at the clock tower where you were suppose to meet Alfrid, he was nowhere to be seen.  Unusual.  Alfrid was always on time; it was one of his more annoying qualities.  Looking around you found Sigmund, one of your father’s other, less reliable, cronies.  You liked Sigmund; he was simple minded, and therefore easy enough to fool._

_“Sigmund,” you called after him.  “Where’s Alfrid?”  You ask approaching the guard.  He was more of a beast than a man with his broad shoulders, bulging arms, and thick brown hair covering his head and every other visible surface of his body._

_“He’s at the jail house my lady,” Sigmund replied with a bow.  “He asked me to escort you back while he took care of a criminal, some bowman responsible for disturbing the peace.”_

_Your mouth went dry as you thought.  You had a feeling you knew the exact bowman Sigmund was referring to.  “And what did this bowman do to disturb the peace, if I may ask?” You asked sweetly, pouring the charm on extra thick as you worked to get information out of the guard._

_“Threw something at Alfrid, I suspect,” Sigmund chuckled.  Even among the guards Alfrid had no friends.  It was almost enough to make you pity Alfrid.  Almost._

_You knew exactly what happened.  Mind racing, you happened to look over to notice Sigmund eying the apples in your basket hungrily. Your lips pulled back into a smirk as you formulated a plan in your head.  “Sigmund, would you like an apple?” you ask politely offering one up to him._

_Walking through the wooden corridors of the jailhouse you strode towards where you knew Alfrid would be holding Bard, taking long powerful strides, your skirts swishing around your feet.  The closer your approach the softer you make your footsteps, wiping all traces of determination from your face.  This was to be your finest performance yet._

_Rounding the corner you walk past Alfrid as he taunts the bowman, already standing in a cell.  Alfrid almost misses you, until the hem of your skirt brushes his leg.  “My lady?” he turns in surprise to see you in the jailhouse._

_“Alfrid?” You say, returning his surprise, smiling sweetly._

_“I thought I told that oaf Sigmund to take you back to your father’s house.” Alfrid stepped closer to you._

_“Oh, he thought you meant to bring me back to you.  Here,” you reply feigning ignorance.  You looked over to Bard as though seeing him for the first time while Alfrid turned his back to the two of you, cursing Sigmund’s stupidity. “What’s this man doing here?” You indicate to Bard, looking bewildered._

_“Pay this thug no attention my lady,” Alfrid answered looking at Bard with disgust._

_“Tell me, what was this man’s crime?” You ask curiously.  Bard stared back at you, figuring you came to gloat at his misfourtune._

_“He was disturbing the peace down in the market.  Thought it would be funny to throw an apple at me head.” Alfrid rubbed the spot on his head where the apple struck him._

_Bard looked down as he chuckled.  “I told you Alfrid.  I had nothing to do with that,” he smirked looking from you to Alfrid as he leaned against the bars._

_“Well, what proof do you have it was him?” You ask looking from Bard to Alfrid._

_“We have witnesses saying he bought an apple, right before the incident,” Alfrid replied, his lip curling up in a sneer. He didn’t like your sudden interest in this case, and in Bard._

_“Do you have any witnesses who saw him throw the apple?  How do you know he didn’t just eat it?” You ask cocking your head curiously to the side._

_“We have a history, he and I,” Alfrid argued.  “He’s getting back at me for dumping the fish in his barrels back into the river last week.”_

_“The people of this town are sick and starving, and you’re denying them the food they need to make themselves strong again,” Bard snarled looking at Alfrid.  “All so the Master can make a profit by selling those over priced apples of his.”_

_“Look at him,” you gestured to Bard.  “Look at the state of his clothes, those stains and the holes in his boots and coat.  Do you honestly think that anyone who dresses like that would spend the money on an apple, just to waste it by throwing it at you instead of eating it? He can barely afford an apple, what with the way the prices are going up.  If it was a rotten apple thrown at you, then that I could understand, but a fresh one?  That doesn’t seem quite right.”_

_“Why are you so sure he’s innocent?” Alfrid asked, eyeing you skeptically.  His gaze as sharp as a hawks studied you, wondering why you were so quick to defend this man you hardly knew, if at all._

_“Because,” you look down feigning shame, “I threw the apple.  And I can not in good conscience allow you to punish another for my actions.”_

_You could hear the rustle of Bard’s long coat brushing against the iron bars as he straightened, surprised and bemused by your false confession._

_“You?’ Alfrid choked.  “You’re lying.  For whatever reason you’re trying to protect this scum.” He pointed to Bard._

_Shaking your head you explain, “I’m not lying.  I have witnesses confirming that they saw me purchase five apples from the stand, one of which is now missing.  I was mad at father for raising the price of apples again and thought I would send a message to him.”_

_“Maybe you ate one,” Alfrid scowled at you, trying to find some flaw in your story._

_“I can’t eat apples,” you reply honestly.  “I’m allergic.  One bite could kill me. I bought the apples for him, spend his money on his bloody produce.”  Looking over to Bard you add, “ Release him, you have the wrong man.”_

_Begrudgingly Alfrid unlocked Bard’s cell.  “Your father’s not going to be happy with you,” he grumbled escorting you in, instead._

_“When is father ever happy with me,” you reply coolly taking a seat on the cot.  “Cheer up Alfrid,” you tease, “He’ll probably give you a medal or something.  He’s always going on about how I should be locked up for my own good.”  You add trying to lighten the situation._

_“You’re free to go,” He grabbed Bard’s arm, as Bard stood in the cell watching you in amazement, shoving him out of the cell before locking it.  “But don’t think I won’t be keeping an eye on you bowman.  You lucked out this time, but next time you won’t be so fortunate to have the Master’s daughter around to defend you.”  Turning his attention back to you Alfrid grumbled, “I’ll be getting your father.  He’ll be wanting a word with you.”_

_“Can’t wait,” you retort before looking out the window, smiling.  You couldn’t believe how well it all worked out.  He fell for it hook, line, and sinker._

_With Alfrid gone Bard leaned close to the bars of the cell whispering to you, “why did you do that?” he hissed._

_Getting up from your seat you walk over to the bars.  “I couldn’t let them lock up the people’s man.  The people of Laketown need their hero,” your voice is soft as you speak earnestly.  “Besides, maybe the little rich girl does have something to prove to the Bowman after all.” You smirk._

_“And what would that be?” Bard asks amused by your tenacity. You were more than the simpering precious little master’s daughter he initially mistook you for._

_Leaning in so close his hair tickle your lips as you whisper.  “That I’m not my father,” you reply before turning back to your seat, signalling that you were through talking with him._

_With a small smile Bard turned to walk away, but not before looking back to sneak one last glance at you sitting in total serenity in the small cell.  Mentally he reminded himself to talk to Gwenda, the herb stand owner he saw you talking with earlier.  The two of you seemed friendly, she would know more._

_Your father released you almost immediately, but not before giving you an earful about how you disgraced him, and tarnished his image – the same speech you got from him about once a month or so.  As punishment for throwing the apple you were to have a guard with you at all times when in the market, and you were not to associate with the Bowman again._

_The following day at the market, while you visited with Gwenda under the watchful eye of Sigmund, you saw him.  Bard.  He was standing at the neighboring apple stand.  While Sigmund had his back turned, Bard motioned if it was safe for him to come over to talk with you.  You ask Sigmund if he would mind fetching you some tomatoes over at another stand still in eyesight, but out of earshot.  Deeming it a simple enough request he agrees and saunters off to get some tomatoes for you._

_With Sigmund gone, Bard came up beside you, feigning interest in some dandelion root.  “What?” you ask, lifting another sprig of lavender to your nose._

_“I didn’t get a chance to thank-you, or to apologize, for yesterday.” Bard whispers reaching for another herb to pretend inspect._

_“Your welcome,” you smile.  “Listen, I’m sorry but I really can’t be seen with you.  If my father knew,” you broke off.  You didn’t want to know what your father would do to you if her caught you talking with Bard again.  Keep you locked up in the house?  Would he put bars on your windows?  The very thought made you shudder.  All you ever wanted in life was your freedom._

_“Can you meet me tonight?”  Bard asked hopefully._

_“I’ll try to stop by your father’s house before I make my stops tonight,” you agree.  You didn’t want to miss the bowman’s apology for anything.  “I have to go,” you see Sigmund returning with the tomatoes._

_“Wait, how do you know where I live?” Bard asked in delighted confusion._

_“It’s a small town, everyone knows where everyone lives,” you wink before paying Gwenda for the lavender._

 

* * *

 

 

“If I recall, you brought me an apple that night, to make up for the one I threw at Alfrid,” Bard smiled before kissing your temple.

The waves of nausea crashing in your stomach settled as you listened to him retell the story.  “I just couldn’t believe any one would be so stupid to waste a fresh apple on the likes of Alfrid,” you retort, feeling slightly calmer in Bard's laughter. 

You and Bard always found a way, no matter how hard others made it for the two of you be together, you always found a way.  You had to remind yourself of that today.  No matter what happened, you were walking out of here with Bard, and you were going to marry him, with or without your father’s approval.

“Come in,” your father’s voice commanded from within the confines of his office.

This was it.  Now or never.  Gulping you take a deep breathe before standing.  “Shall we?” you ask nervously, looking at Bard.

Taking your hand in his he nods, “ let’s go get this over with.”  He follows you through the door, never letting go of your hand.  The two of you stand before your father’s heavy wooden desk, buried beneath piles of maps and numerous documents.

Looking up from his paper work, your father is pleasantly surprised to see you standing before him.  “Darling,” he greets you warmly with a fond looking smile, until he sees Bard.  “You,” he sneers. 

“Sir,” Bard bows his head, to show the proper respect, begrudgingly, for your sake.

“What can I do for you?” the Master asks coldly looking from you to Bard.  His wonder, at what the two of you were doing standing so close together, written clearly in his eyes as he waited for one of you to speak.  As far as he was concerned the two of you did not know each other with last year’s apple incident forgotten.

Releasing Bard’s hand you step forward.  “I have something I need to tell you,” you say with a shaky voice playing with your fingers.  Gods, did you hate confrontation. 

“And what might that be?” he asked, his eyes narrowing on you.

Your courage fleeting you look to Bard for encouragement.  Feeling your need for him he steps forward, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close so he might kiss the side of your head he says in a clear voice, speaking for the both of you.  “I’ve asked your daughter for her hand in marriage, and she has accepted.” Bard announced.

Heart hammering in your chest you look from him to your father waiting for the explosion.  But there was nothing.  No yelling, no screaming, no insults.  He just sat there staring at the two of you.

Rising from his seat, your heart leaps into your throat as he begins to chuckle.  “Is that so?” he asked amused.  “And I suppose you conveniently forgot that you are to be married to Alfrid?” he asks turning to you. 

On cue, Alfrid entered the room, scowling at the sight of Bard holding you so tenderly.  “What’s he doing here, with her?” he asks stepping closer to the Master.

“Apparently, my daughter wishes to break her betrothal to you in order to marry a bowman,” your father chortles.  Alfrid joins him along in his laughter.   The match was technically a step down for you as Bard was below your social station, and money would never be abundant for the two of you – but you already knew that.  Money, status, power, none of that mattered to you; what mattered was love, happiness and mutual respect, and you had all of that in abundance with Bard.

Stepping forward, you look your father in the eye, giving him a stern look that stops his chortling.  “I won’t marry Alfrid,” you say, finding you courage to speak.  “I am not some piece of property to be sold and traded as you please.  I am a person, and I have the right to have a say in who I marry.”

“Wrong,” you father sneers.  “As my daughter you are mine do with as I see fit.  And I say you will marry Alfrid.”

“I will not.  And even if I wanted to, I can’t,” you answer, before clasping your hands over your mouth.  Your heart stops as the world seems to slow, you can’t believe you were so careless with your words.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” You father demands to know.  His brow arched in dubious curiosity.  ”Why can’t you marry Alfrid?”

All eyes turn to you as you gulp for air.  You felt like you were drowning with no land in sight as wave upon wave crashed upon you.  You had to tell them now; there was no turning back. Closing your eyes you curse your foolishness.  This was not how you wanted to tell them, any of them, but especially Bard.  You knew for a day or two now, but you didn’t have the time to tell Bard.  Looking back at him, your love, your life, you saw the confusion and bewilderment on his face. 

Stepping back you take Bard’s hand in yours again.  “Because I’m carrying  _his_ child,” you admit tearfully looking over at Bard, squeezing his hand tightly as you say his.  The stunned expression on his face breaks your heart, you wish that he did not have find out in such a horrible way, in front of your father and Alfrid, but the damage was done.

 Bard turns to face you, tilting your chin upwards so you look him in the eye.  “Is it true, are you carrying my child?” he asks slowly, still trying to comprehend what he just heard.  Unable to tear your eyes from his you nod.  “For almost two months now,” you add sheepishly.

Bard surprises you by kissing you, out in the open for everyone to see.  Releasing your lips he rests his forehead against yours, fingers threading themselves in yours again as his other hand rests on your shoulder.  “I love you,” he whispers softly as a giant grin illuminates his face, tears of joy near brimming from his eyes. 

Your moment of happiness is interrupted, however, by your father’s quiet fury.  “Get out,” he rumbles.  Forgetting he and Alfrid were present you turn to look at them.  You see the hurt and the disappointment ripple in your fathers eyes, but most of all you see rage.  His face is red and splotchy as his entire body starts shaking vigorously with rage.  “You want to live as some cheap harlot, some kind of trollop, with this barge rat then so be it.  You have been nothing but a thorn in my side since the day you were born, and you have brought me nothing but shame and disappointment.  I will not have some sullied, damaged whore living under my roof, calling me father while your bastard child runs about town calling me papa. So, get out of my office, get from my sight, my house, and my life.  From this moment forward you are no child of mine,” he roars almost flipping his desk over in his anger. 

You and Bard barely make out the office door before you hear the crash of countless artefacts being thrown about the room.  Standing outside you stand rigidly still while too many thoughts and emotions course through your mind.  It went so much worse than you ever imagined, but you didn’t cry.  Perhaps you were too stunned to cry, after all, your father had just called you a whore, and threw you out of his home, and his life.  He had not been much, but since you were a little girl he was all you had by the ways of family left in this world.

So consumed by your thoughts you almost didn’t notice Bard’s arms wrap around your waist from behind you, and his warm breath tickle your shoulder.  “Well that could have gone better,” he mused.  Kissing your shoulder affectionately he tries to bring you out of your stunned daze.

Still unable to speak you say nothing. 

Concerned Bard turns you around so you look at him.  “It’ll be alright,” he whispers, pulling you in close for a gentle embrace. 

“I have no family,” you reply numbly, looking back at him, seeing him for the first time since you left the office.

Bard’s brows furrowed together as he dropped to his knees, placing a warm hand on your belly.  “Don’t you listen to your mother,” he whispered softly to your unborn child.  “She’s just upset at the moment, because her father is a very stupid man for letting her go.  So, we’re going to have to love her more than ever until she realizes that we’re her family, and she doesn’t need him, or anyone else so long as she has us.”  Un-tucking the linen shirt from your skirt he places a gentle, tender, kiss on your stomach, his moustache tickling as he drags his lips along your sensitive skin.

Tears spring to your eyes as Bard continues talking to your child, and your heart swells listening to his sweet reminders.  “You’re right,” you choke out, chuckling at your stupidity.  “So long as I have you, I have everything I will ever need.”  You tuck a piece of hair behind his ear before wrapping your hands around his neck, as he gets back up on his feet.

“I promise, I will be a better husband, and father than yours ever was,” Bard swears as he kisses each tear on your cheek.  Cupping your face in his calloused hands he smiles as you look up at him.  Reading your thoughts he smiles.  “You are not damaged, and you’re no whore.  You are mine, and you are perfect, if any man ever says otherwise, I’ll kill them.”

“Where do we go from here?” You ask as the two of you step out on to the busy town streets, hands firmly laced together.

“Home,” Bard replies, pulling you in for a kiss.  “Our home.”


End file.
